


don't fall in love with the moment (and think you're in love with the girl)

by traumatic



Category: One Direction
Genre: Accidental Kissing, Alcohol, Alternate Universe - Teachers, American Everyone Else, British Louis, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Except Perrie (she's the principal), F/F, First Kiss, Gender or Sex Swap, Girl Direction, I wanted to keep their birthdays the same, Louis is sorta mean, Near Future, Teacher Harry, Teacher Liam, Teacher Louis, Teacher Niall, Teacher Zayn, Teasing, Theft, Theyre all teachers okay, i took it too far, oopsies, set in the USA, sorry about that
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-29
Updated: 2016-11-29
Packaged: 2018-08-30 05:42:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,328
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8520667
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/traumatic/pseuds/traumatic
Summary: The first time Louis realizes she's meant to teach is during her final year at school. She's standing in front of her friends, her enemies, her teacher, as she gets a grade on how well she explains the reproductive cycle.She stares at them and they stare back, listening and watching her with careful, attentive eyes. She opens her mouth, swallows back her fear, and teaches.It's the most important moment of Louis' entire life.or where Louis is a British teacher living in an American world and Harry's just a girl that seems to be a magnet for thieves.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Veronibell](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Veronibell/gifts).



> Title's from 'She's American' by The 1975.
> 
> I hope you like it!

Louis starts the first day of school like many teachers. With a steaming cup of tea and two Excedrin.

She's been a teacher at a New York public high school long enough to know that the first day is by far one of the most stressful of the year. New kids means new names, and confused freshmen means Louis’ feet will hurt almost as much as her head from walking them to their absolutely _elusive_ classes. So she swallows the Excedrin like her life depends on it and it damn well might.

-

When Louis arrives, there are only a few students trickling about. She sees her friends, Liam and Niall, and rushes toward them, hoping to hide from the freshmen behind them.

“Louis!” Niall says with a smile, reaching out to hug her with one arm as they both carry hot cups of tea. “Missed you.”

“Missed you, too, N.”

“How was your summer?” She asks and then, only slightly quieter, “Did you get laid?”

Louis withholds her sarcastic laugh. Liam will punch her if she starts with her ‘sardonic shit’ this early in the morning.

“Not quite.”

“So no good stories then?”

“ _Well…_ ”

“Save it for the break room. Kids’ll overhear and then we'll be dead meat,” Liam buts in, with an elbow in Louis’ ribs. “Again.”

Three years prior, Louis had been discussing how cute the barista at her favourite diner was when some kid overheard and told his bigot parents. Of course, there had been a big scandal—thankfully not newspaper worthy—and it ended with the parents taking their hate-filled lives elsewhere.

Louis honestly lives for the drama, but Liam doesn’t, so she’s forbidden conversations involving love. Louis likes to push her buttons, of course, but not this early in the morning.

“Oh, live a little, Li,” Louis grins at her and nods toward the history hall. “They changed my room last minute. Made me come in last week and put up all my stuff in the new history hall.”

“Same,” Niall says and that's when Louis sees her.

Liam, apparently, sees her at the same moment and invites her over. Louis groans quietly because she doesn’t particularly enjoy Harry’s company. Harry grins at them, wearing an absolutely _ridiculous_ flower shirt and a tight black skirt, and rushes over. Louis wrinkles her nose. It's not that she doesn't like Harry, but she doesn't like her.

“Liam!”

“H, how's it going?”

“Well and you?” How fucking pretentious can one person be?

Everyone knows that good is a colloquial exception. _'Well'_. What the fuck.

Louis tugs on Niall’s sleeve, nodding toward the cafeteria. If they leave now, Louis can still get some biscuits for her tea.

Niall knocks her hand away, frowning, “Go by yourself. I wanna say hi to Harry.”

“Why?”

She doesn't understand the other teachers’ obsession with Harry. She teaches math, for fuck's sake. When has a math teacher ever been interesting?

“Because I haven't seen her all summer?”

Louis almost makes the point that she hasn't seen _her_ all summer, either, but refrains and says, “Fine. Fuck you.”

Louis drops Niall’s sleeve and goes to the cafeteria to grab a handful of biscuits. When she returns to where she left her friends, they're in an in depth conversation about flip-flop tan lines. Louis decides it's too early for that kind of shit and heads toward her room, jaw locked tight.

-

It's the middle of third period when she notices it. A soft, rhythmic thumping noise along with upbeat lyrics about numbers. Some fucker is playing [The Pi Song](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=AtgfsRH3H3U) in the next room. Louis furrows her brow, excuses herself from her class of tenth graders—they don't care and neither does she—to follow the noise.

The room next door has the window blocked out with flamingo paper, so she opens the door and frowns at who she sees.

Of course it's Harry. Since when are Psych and Math in the same subject pool?

“You're teaching on the first day?” Louis asks, trying to hide her scowl. “Who _does_ that? And with the dreaded Pi Song?”

Teaching on the first day is taboo, or at least it is to Louis. She'd never torture the kids that way. Especially with something as godawful as the _Pi Song_.

“Well, they've a test next week. I'm just introducing the topics.”

Louis wrinkles her nose, disgusted, mouthing to the kids, “Good luck”.

They, of course, chuckle and Louis smirks. Harry crosses her arms in return, a stern look on her face, and it's then that Louis realizes she's got tattoos tucked under the sleeves of her button-down. They're, well, they're unexpected. Louis, too, has some, but she doesn't bother covering them.

The students typically don't care. The ones that do, transfer out. Louis has tenure, so she doesn't give a fuck what the 9th graders think.

“Please leave,” Harry says sternly.

“Sure. This song sucks anyway.”

Louis winks at the kids and closes the door, revelling in the fact that she can annoy Harry all year.

-

Her eighth period is her only bunch of 12th graders. She's stricter with them, but at least she isn't teaching on the first day.

She reminds every class of that in the loudest voice possible so Harry hears. It's hilarious.

Her 12th graders are troublemakers, mostly. She knows because only troublemakers take Intro to Psych in 12th fucking grade.

She gives them a special syllabus— in Layman's terms, it says to not fuck with her and also that they’ll need a single subject notebook and a folder—and promises a monthly movie day if they don’t act like complete delinquents and if they tell no one about it.

No one looks happy about it, but a boy in the back sits up straighter and smirks when Louis mentions Doctor Who. Which, well, everyone likes Doctor Who, so she’s not surprised.

“What’s your name again?” She asks with narrowed, amused eyes. “Ian?”

“It’s Rory.”

“Oh.”

Louis makes an apologetic noise. It’s only the first day. She’ll get it eventually.

“Wait—” she says with a surprised grin. “Like Rory from…?”

“Yeah, kinda. I wasn’t, like, named after him or anything.”

“That’s still pretty cool, though,” Louis murmurs and then looks sharply down at her seating chart, remembering. “Wait—Isn’t there an Amelia in here?!”

-

When Louis is done for the day, she sticks around and makes a hundred or so copies of an information sheet.

She thinks it's important for the students to feel safe and understood, so the questions, while personal, are all optional. What they go by, their pronouns, their parent or guardian’s phone number and email address. They're all pretty important, but she's not going to force anyone to answer them.

While typing it up—she changes it every year because she's a mess and never bothers to save a copy—, she blasts loud music and sings as she types.

There's a knock at the door about halfway through the first _Lit_ song.

Louis stands and opens it, staring up at Harry's face with an innocent smile like she isn't blasting 90s music at the highest volume.

“Hi,” Louis says. “Can I help you?”

“Could you possibly turn that down? The walls are paper thin and I'm trying to grade.”

“Grade what?!” Louis wrinkles her nose. “It's the first day!”

“It was an assessment test to see what their skill levels are.”

Louis feels so bad for the kids that she concedes, “Oh. Okay. I'll plug in my headphones.”

She just wants Harry to go away, to sing and listen to late 90s alternative music. She'll say anything to get Harry to go back to her room and grade her blasphemous tests.

Harry smiles, looking relieved, and thanks her. Louis is glad to be of service.

Harry leaves and Louis does as she said she'd do, bouncing around the room with MCR blasting in her ears.

It's honestly not her fault when she the next verse bursts out of her mouth. She isn't concerned about Harry. She isn't concerned about finishing the papers. She's only concerned with singing the next verse perfectly.

And she does, of course. Louis is bad at a lot of things, but singing is not one of them.

-

Louis’ classes aren’t the worst. In fact, she’d even say she downright enjoys some of them. The seniors are her favourite, as they’re more accustomed to the pace of high school and are less likely to start a fight in the midst of her lessons.

It’s good, really, but Harry’s become more than a little bit of a nuisance. She’s stuck to Louis’ friends like a fly on shit, so Louis has taken to hiding in her room which doesn’t always work. After all, Harry’s room is right next door.

Louis misses her friends, sure, but lunch isn’t that big of a deal. They’ll go out on free weekends and have some good food that’s bad for them and watch as Liam’s inhibitions slowly fly out of the window with every beer.

Things go too far when Louis checks the teacher groupchat and sees Niall, Liam, and Harry have planned an outing. Without her, while she sits home alone reading The Psychopath Test with a half empty bottle of pinot noir.

Louis immediately goes to Snapchat, her least used app, and checks her friends’ stories. There’s one on Liam’s—a  blurrygroup photo with fruity drinks in their hands—and several on Niall’s. Louis feels the disappointment pang in her chest.  She isn’t just hurt or disappointed or sad.

She’s _angry_.

-

It's a month or so into school when Louis decides she has to get revenge. Not the big, damaging kind, though. She much prefers the slower approach.

It'll be easier to drive Harry mad that way.

So Louis sneaks into the break room before anyone's lunch and steals Harry's lunchbox.

She’s not completely heartless, so she leaves the food and matching ugly thermos, cynicism burning in her veins.

It's completely wholeheartedly petty, but Louis doesn't care.

A lunchbox for her friends. It's a shit deal.

After lunch, she hears Liam and Harry talking in her room. Their voices are clear, so Louis doesn't have to listen too closely.

“Liam, I swear I brought my Vera Bradley pack! I remember because I thought of posting a close-up of the print to Instagram in black and white.”

“Who would take it? Only teachers have a key to the lounge. Surely you can't think someone like Tosca Rao stole it.”

Mrs. Rao is, like, one hundred years old and walks with a cane. She teaches A.P English Lit and is apparently very rich, thanks to the generous insurance of her dead husband. Louis only knows because Tosca would talk to Louis for hours about it if she let her.

“Well, obviously not, Liam! I'm just upset over losing it,” Harry sighs. “Over having it _stolen_.”

“Maybe Louis has seen it, yeah? Let's go ask her.”

Louis takes one glance down at the ugly flowery bag and shoves it up the back of her shirt under her blazer. She hopes it's not visible as Liam and Harry stomp through her door.

“Hey, Lou,” Liam says, looking like she hadn't realized Louis is mad at her. “Have you seen Harry's lunchbox?”

“It's sorta flowery with blue roses and green daisies. Pink background. I left in the fridge so I could have lunch and now it's gone.”

“No. I haven't seen it. Sorry.”

“Okay. Thanks,” Liam says, eyeing her weirdly. “If you see it, let us know.”

Louis hums her ascent, nervous.

Ignoring Liam's prodding eyes with a cross of her arms, she tells them pointedly that she has things to do.

They nod and leave. Louis breathes out a sigh of relief and removes the lunchbox from her shirt. She realizes it's uglier than she previously thought and wrinkles her nose, tossing it into her cabinet and locking it up.

She can't have Harry or her new best friends seeing it.

-

It becomes a Thing.

Louis has no idea why Harry has so many ugly flowery lunchboxes, but, honestly, she doesn't care.

Louis keeps them stored in her closet under lock and key. No one goes to her room for lunch anymore, so she's no one to hide them from.

She still sees her ‘friends’ in the hallways, but ignores them or gives one word replies. She doesn't answer their texts or calls or Snaps of Harry laughing brightly into the camera. She locks her room during her plan period and goes outside to smoke.

It's a pretty shitty life, but at least she gets the thrill of knowing Harry's lunchboxes have gone missing. It's still a shit deal.

Louis takes it a step farther right before Halloween.

Louis, of course, is British, so she doesn't really celebrate it like the Americans do, but she buys a bunch of candy and, to be funny, toothbrushes which she plans to give to kids that are little twats.

Louis thinks of her family, of her friends, as she sneaks into the break room with a sinister grin, and takes not only the ugly flowery lunchbox, but her carrot sticks as well.

She sneaks back out, stolen goods rolled up in her coat. She bumps into the principal, Perrie, and tries her best to get away quickly.

“Hey! Lou, what's up?”

“Nothing much. Ready to skip plan and go on break. You?”

“About the same, yeah. My dog tore my lunchbox to shreds, though, because she’s teething or somethin’, so I’m brown bagging it. Wanna pretend we forgot ours and go off campus?” Perrie grins, nudging Louis in the ribs gently.

Louis is her favourite and she knows it. Perrie is Louis’ favourite, too, so how could she say no?

“Definitely. Let me go grab my wallet, yeah? I’ve got a free period.”

Perrie nods, “I’ve got to make an announcement, so I’ll meet you at Tommy’s in fifteen?”

“Yeah, sounds good.”

Louis heads off, sweating only slightly as she runs down the hall, hands slippery around the rubberized handle of Harry’s ugly flower-printed lunchbox. She opens her door and unlocks the cabinet, flinging the bag into the closet haphazardly. She leans up against it and breathes out a sigh of relief.

That was close.

-

Louis is lecturing when she pauses to take a sip of her tea, listening to Harry's voice through the paper thin walls.

It's her delinquent class again, and most of them stare at her with blank eyes. She's lost their attention. Hell, she's lost her own. 

So she sighs exaggeratedly and reigns them back in.

Before she can tell them she plans on ditching the lesson and taking them on a walking tour of the school—to help with their lesson on body language, of course—she hears Harry say something so inconceivably incorrect that she is embarrassed for her.

Louis immediately turns her head and walks out, pulling open Harry's butterfly coated door with excitement and awe.

“Zero is not an even number! How could you be teaching your students such utter lies?”

“Excuse me?” Harry looks surprised to see her. “What are you doing—”

“Children,” Louis interrupts, a sickly sweet smile on her face, “zero is neither even nor odd. Anyone who tells you different is a bit of a fool, if you ask me.”

Louis nods at them, recognizing some of them, and turns to walk out. She lingers, though only a second. It's just long enough to look over her shoulder, wink, and witness Harry's face.

Louis sees the frustration bubble under the surface, the embarrassment settle into the frown on her face.

The moment is worth every minute Louis has spent missing her friends.

-

Liam corners Louis in the gymnasium while she's covering a class in mid-November. She’s substituting for Taylor in a gym class, so she’s nowhere to hide. Taylor _always_ calls off right before Thanksgiving.

“Line up,” Louis says to the ninth and tenth grade students, all wearing varying degrees of sports apparel.

She doesn't say anything about the kids wearing jeans—they'll just have to walk laps around the track—and takes roll. She recognizes a few, but their names evade her. She's just glad she has the roster to look at.

“Louis Tomlinson!”

Louis turns, in the middle of reminding a boy with short, shiny green hair that he should remember his gym clothes next week, and sees Liam. She looks pissed, but Louis isn't scared. Just continues taking roll.

“Holly Thompson.”

“It's actually...um...nevermind.”

“Hmm? What's up?” Louis stops, looking up at a short kid with even shorter black hair.

“It's Holden, now. I...uh...I go by Holden.”

Louis’ face drops. She can't believe Taylor, the gym teacher, had given her a list with incorrect names! She’s going to _scream_ at her.

“Oh, I'm so sorry. Miss. Swift didn't give me an updated list, apparently.”

“I never told her,” the kid whispers.

“Well, now she’ll know. It's important to remember and recognize names.”

Louis takes her pen and scribbles down a pissed off note on the roster.

“Thank you.”

“No thanks needed,” Louis smiles and moves on. “Richard Underwood?”

When she's finished, she pulls out some basketballs and tells the kids what they're doing. The only sort of basketball Louis is good at.

Horse.

She splits them up into stearate groups and explains the rules. They all seem to know the game, so she's not worried. Though she is worried about how quiet Liam's been, standing behind her with pressed lips.

“Miss. Payne,” Louis says lightly, still scribbling down a note for the gym teacher, “what can I do for you?”

“Why are you being an ass?”

“I'm not. I'm just...doing my job. Helping kids. Passing out basketballs.”

“Why are you avoiding Niall and I?”

“It's me and Niall and I'm not.”

She turns to look at the kids, watching to make sure everyone's playing fairly. They look like they’re behaving, but she doesn't trust them for a second.

“Stop writing Taylor love notes and pay attention to me!”

“Actually, I'm writing her a _hate_ note. She left me an incorrect seating chart,” Louis huffs.

“Why do you keep blowing me off?!”

“I'm not.”

Liam scoffs, frustrated, and Louis doesn't feel bad at all. Liam's put her through worse.

“Wait,” Liam says and Louis knows she's figured it out, knows that Liam knows why she's been evading her, “is it because of Harry? It is, isn't it?”

“No.”

“It _is_!” Liam says with a half-baked smile. “You're jealous!”

Now that's completely untrue. Liam isn't as smart as Louis gave her credit for. She's shocked.

“Am not.”

Louis tacks the note to the inside of Taylor's laptop, **FUCK YOU** written on top in bright red ink.

“You so are! I can't believe this!”

“I'm not,” Louis says, haughty.

“You are! Big, bad Louis is afraid of a little lady with curly hair? That's hilarious! Wait until Niall hears! She'll just _die!”_

Louis can't take it— _her_ —anymore, she really can't, so she can't help it when she tosses her roster onto the desk harshly, fists clenched.

“Liam!” Louis snaps, aggravated, as all the kids stop what they're doing to watch. “Go. Get the hell out of my gymnasium.”

“Woah,” she says, hands raised. “I didn't mean—”

“Get out.”

“Louis, come on—”

Louis turns away from her, so aggravated it hurts, and nods, the kids watching them with awed eyes.

They've probably never seen teachers fight like this. Louis realizes how unprofessional it is and makes a smart decision.

“Can someone please escort Miss. Payne to her room? I think she's lost.”

Tyler raises his hand, so she lets him go. Liam leaves quietly, staring at Louis’ back until she's gone.

-

Louis is not jealous of Harry. She's angry with her friends for blowing her off and for hanging out with people she doesn't like.

That's not what friends do, right? They don't become friends with their friends’ mortal enemies. That's just wrong, isn't it?

She asks her 8th period hooligans, just to be sure.

“So?”

“You've got shit friends,” says Rory, Louis’ favourite.

“Thanks,” she replies dryly.

She's not upset about the profanity. They're adults; she has to treat them like so.

“Show them you don't care,” Tahereh murmurs. “Hang out with their enemies.”

“Agreed,” says Paul. “No offense, but you've been miserable.”

Louis knows Paul from 11th grade when he was in her homeroom and study hall. He does a lot of weed, but that doesn't make him dishonest.

“Last year, you were the best. This year, you're,” she gives him a pointed look and he changes his wording last second, “still great, but you look messed up. You just gotta get happy.”

“Or fake it,” Rory shrugs.

Louis sighs and nods. It's the only solution.

Louis can do this; she's an actress. She's got this.

-

Miss. Malik is probably Liam's least favourite teacher and Louis gets why—she's too beautiful for Liam to compete with. Hell, she's too beautiful for most people to compete with. Louis isn't one of them, thankfully, so she starts hanging with Zayn in the break room during first lunch.  

Liam's initial reaction is subtle. She rolls her eyes and continues eye fucking Harry from across the table, so Louis steps it up a notch.

“Zayn,” Louis says, loud, “how do you like being the chair of the science department?”

Liam had pined over the spot for months, practicing her speech and writing her essay seven times before submitting it.

In the end, Zayn won. Liam was the only one who was surprised.

“It's quite nice,” she replies, nodding with a smile. “I've got the best room in the whole science wing, so it's worth the extra work.”

“And how's that overtime treating your paycheck? Well, I hope.”

“Yeah, the extra money's great. Helped me pay off my student loans.”

“That should be celebrated!” Louis grins. “I've still got well over 20 grand.”

She doesn't look over at her friends, doesn’t dare look at Liam's irritated glance, just sucks it up and ignores them. Shows them how happy she is without them. Niall's audible scoff is loud enough for oblivious Zayn to notice.

“Is there something going on?” Zayn whispers, fork full of spaghetti held precariously in her left hand. “Are you guys having a fight?”

“A bit, yeah,” Louis says and she scoffs, too. “It's their fault, though, so I won't be apologizing.”

“You never apologize even when it is your fault!” Liam shouts, standing up so quickly that she knocks over her thermos. “Never!”

“Do you hear something?” Louis grins, sinister, as Niall leads Liam

“Sounds like an eavesdropper,” Zayn smirks.

-

Zayn becomes Louis’ partner in crime. It's sort of the greatest thing to ever happen.

They go out with Zayn’s friends on weekends—her friends do a lot of weed, though Zayn says she doesn't dabble in it—and get decently drunk or have really great food from hole-in-the-wall restaurants.

Her friends call Louis a wine snob and Louis calls them tasteless potheads and, honestly, they're the best friends Louis has ever had. Including Niall and Liam.

Louis can see Liam's anger every time they pass her in the hall, ever time Louis laughs so hard she almost cries and Zayn grins so bright she might as well be a star, every time Louis leans into Zayn to whisper something.

She sees the way Niall glances at her, an emotion in her eyes that Louis can only describe as loss.

It's a great day when Louis realizes that she's the same person with them as she is without them.

Zayn nudges Louis in the ribs, nodding toward the door, “Drinks tonight? Jade’s got ballet, though, so it's looking like it might just be us.”

“I'll invite Perrie, just in case.”

“Alright. Sounds good. I'll see you again J’s at ten?”

J’s is their favourite hole-in-the-wall bar. They sell cheap wine in expensive glasses and make the absolute best bread Louis has ever had.

“Yeah, see you.”

Louis peeks out of the corner of her eye, watches Liam and Niall watch her, and smirks. She picks up her phone and calls Perrie.

“Hey, meet at J’s at eight? Jade might be there.”

“Really?!” Perrie gasps.

Jade is either Perrie’s dream best friend or significant other. Louis has yet to decide and Perrie has yet to say. It doesn't matter, either way, though.

“Yeah, P. She might skip ballet.”

“She's such a good dancer, “ Perrie says and Louis can hear the smile. “She doesn't need more practice.”

“Agreed.”

-

Louis, as per her usual, doesn't get drunk. She has half a glass of white and calls it a night.

Perrie and Zayn show and, eventually, so does Jade, so Louis hangs with them until they go.

Perrie has half a shot and Zayn gets shit faced. It's nothing new for any of them, really.

Zayn hangs all over Jade, laughing insensibly. Jade laughs, too, the only completely sober one, and leads her and Perrie out to her car.

She comes back in to ask Louis if she needs a ride, but she doesn't, so she shakes her head and orders another glass of white.

They head out, leaving Louis with the sorta cute bartender and a weight on her shoulders.

She's occasionally the sad drunk. So what.

The bartender leaves Louis alone, mostly too busy with the group of people in the back of the bar, the jeering and drunk barely 21-s proving to be much more intoxicated than the legal limit.

She sips her wine, watches, and orders something stronger when the bartender makes a frenzied walk past to ask how her drink is. She's reminiscent of her teens, is all.

The door behind Louis jingles and she turns just long enough to see a long mane of dark hair and green eyes.

She sighs heartily, knocks back the rest of her wine and the vodka, and rests her head upon the counter. She's just lucky it isn't sticky.

“Louis?”

She lifts her head at inch or so to turn and look at Harry with a scowl.

“Yes?”

“Why are you resting your head on the counter?”

“I'm…” well, she doesn't really _know_.

She was hoping to avoid Harry, but she already saw her, so what's the point?

“I'm drowning my sorrows in whiskey and pine nuts,” she says, mouth pressed against her arm.

She's hoping Harry goes away, to be honest.

“Care if I join you?”

“Not really,” _yes_.

Harry settles down beside Louis, orders a martini, and shoves a handful of nuts into her mouth. She makes an appreciative sound.

They _are_ good nuts.

Louis gets both of her glasses refilled and sips from the wine, tapping her fingers against the counter top.

“You ever feel like someone hates you and you don't know why? Like you didn't do anything to them and they just...hate you?”

“Um...no?”

Harry pauses before she speaks again, a sigh pushed into words, “Must just be me, then.”

“Must be.”

Harry stirs the olives around the bottom of her glass, looking distracted. Normally, Louis wouldn't ask, but she's starting to feel tipsy, so she can't help herself.

“Alright. Who's it, then?”

“Zayn,” Harry admits softly. “I don't think she likes me much and I've never even spoken to her! She just hates me for no reason and I don't know why!”

“You can't be liked by everybody,” Louis says and she knows it's true because she, herself, doesn't like Harry.

“I know...that's what Liam said...but it just...irks me,” she sighs. “And someone's stealing my lunch boxes and I think it's her!”

“Oh, my.”

Louis can barely hold back her laugh. She has to cough to hide it.

“Liam's right. She always is.”

“Isn't she?” Harry smiles. “She's my best friend—”

“Hey, let's just get drunk, yeah?” Louis is not jealous.

She totally 100% is not.

“Yeah.”

-

So they do. Or at least Harry does. Harry's apparently a giggly drunk and it's okay. Louis is sure it is.

The bartender pulls out his phone to order them an Uber, but Louis says it isn't necessary. Her apartment’s, like, a block away. She can walk.

“She'll need one, though,” he says. “Right?”

“Nah,” Louis says, “she'll stay over. On my couch. Right, Harry?”

“Right.”

Louis is just trying to make sure Harry doesn't die or get killed or anything. Only God knows what could happen to a drunk person in an Uber.

“Bye!” Harry laughs as she leads her out, arms hanging loosely around Louis’ shoulders.

The bartender waves, eyes mocking, so Louis huffs and helps her out into the cold air, hoping it'll help sober her up. And maybe Louis, too, a little.

They begin their walk, Harry barely able to keep upright, and Louis is more than slightly agitated.

“You know,” Harry murmurs, “I thought you hated me. At first.”

“Why’s that?”

“Because you'd slink away anytime I was near.”

“I didn't—”

“Hush!” Harry puts her finger against Louis’ mouth, quieting her. “But Niall told me it's because I'm too...too cute and you were shy and wanted to...ask me out but we're too afraid...but that's not true, is it?”

“No, I'm not shy. I'm not gonna ask you out.”

“Then why?”

“Because...because you stole my friends. You're charming and kind and funny...and my friends chose you over me, so I loathed you. But it's not your fault, is it?”

Harry's drunk. She won't remember this, right?

“No. I didn't even...know. I just thought…”

“Yeah, well, now you do. But I don't want them back. You can keep ‘em.”

“Okay,” Harry hiccups. “I'm sleepy.”

“We're almost there. Just another half block or so.”

Louis sighs, adjusts the way Harry's hanging on her, and presses her lips together. Louis doesn't understand how she got in this situation.

“You're cute, you know that? Like really cute.”

“Yeah?”

“When I first started last year, I...I thought you were the cutest teacher I'd ever seen.”

“You don't anymore?”

“No. Now I think you're the hottest person I'll _ever_ see.”

Louis turns her head to the side to grin. Her heart’s not supposed to flutter when Harry speaks to her, so why does it?

“Damn. That's a big title.”

“You take it easily.”

Louis hums, “Even from Zayn?”

“Completely.”

-

Louis has trouble opening her door. Harry leans against it, tired, as Louis tries to open it and won't move.

“H, we can't go inside unless you move.”

“H?”

Louis grumbles and nudges Harry a little harsher, “Move, please.”

Harry giggles when Louis pokes her side, ticklish, so she uses that to her advantage. She presses her fingers into Harry's sides, grinning when Harry giggles so hard she moves away from the door.

Louis is proud of herself.

“Let's go, Harriette.”

“It's just Harry,” she grumbles as she stumbles inside.

Louis realizes at the exact moment Harry trips over a shoe that she probably should've cleaned up a bit. Oh, well.

“Nice house.”

“Thanks. Want some water? You need to sober up a bit.”

“No, I just want to go to bed,” Harry says, pressing her face into Louis’ shoulder. “Please.”

Louis nods, smiling softly, and leads Harry toward the guest room. She's fondly smiling and _she_ _doesn't know why._

Louis pushes open the door and helps Harry climb into bed, pulling off her shoes and leaving on her socks.

“Why aren't we friends?” She asks softly, quietly.

“Because...we don't get along.”

“But don't we?” Harry looks up at her, eyes wide and pupils dark, and leans forward to hug Louis. “We’ll be Friday night friends. No one will know.”

“Sounds good,” Louis smiles. “Now go to bed.”

Harry nods and slides down onto the bed, eyes shutting as she tugs the blanket closer. Louis smiles, shakes her head, and leaves, closing the door gently behind her.

She doesn't go to bed, though. Instead, she fills a glass with water and gets some paracetamol for Harry's probable hangover. She leaves it on the bedside table in the guest room as Harry snores.

 _Then_ she goes to bed.

-

School on Monday isn't weird, it isn't different or strange or awkward. She avoids Harry and Harry pretends to not see her. It only sort of hurts her feelings and she doesn't know why.

Zayn doesn't say anything, but somehow she knows and it's unnerving.

“Did you fuck?” Zayn asks with a smile in her eyes.

“No!” Louis exclaims. “She was drunk and I...I don't want to fuck her.”

“ _Mentiroso_.”

Zayn speaks Spanish. Louis does not.

“Fuck off with the Spanish, okay?”

“Okay,” Zayn grins. “But only if you give me the details.”

“Nothing happened. We were drunk. We had some drinks. She slept in my guest room. It's not a big deal. We aren't even friends. I couldn't let her drive home shit faced.”

“That's boring. I was hoping for something more explicit so we could talk too loudly about it during lunch and piss Liam off.”

“We could make stuff up,” Louis shrugs. “We’ll just have to get creative.”

-

Louis still takes Harry's lunchbox. She does it out of habit and feels a little bad about it for the first time. Damn her conscience.

Zayn, of course, finds it hilarious.

“How many have you got?!”

“A lot. Want to see?”

Zayn nods, so Louis opens up the cabinet and even _she_ is awed. There's a lot more than she remembers.

“What's she using to hold her lunches?”

“I guess she keeps buying more or she has a billion of them? I don't know. She'll probably have to start brownbagging.”

“Damn, Lou. This is crazy.”

Louis takes a look at the lunchboxes and then at Zayn. She grins.

“You have a bring one to lunch today. She thinks you're stealing them!”

“She what?”

“She drunkenly told me that you hate her and are stealing her lunchboxes.”

Zayn looks at her and then breaks out into laughter, “Okay, okay. We have to do it.”

Louis chooses the least ugly one and hands it to Zayn. She can't wait to see Harry's face.

-

An hour later, it's lunchtime.

Zayn and Louis walk into the break room early, cynicism in their eyes. They take their seats and wait. Harry, Liam, and Niall show up three minutes later, just as Zayn is taking her sandwich from Harry's pack.

“Hey,” Harry says with a frown when she notices. “Where'd you get that?”

“Online,” Zayn answers gruffly. “Why?”

“It's just...I think...it's not really your style, is it?”

And she's right, of course. It clashes with Zayn’s ‘I’m a badass and I like the color black’ aesthetic.

Zayn just looks at her with annoyed eyes.

“Nevermind.”

Louis hides her grin in her mug of tea and feels Zayn squeeze her knee.

It worked.

-

Louis sees Harry by the printer later that week. Zayn has been using a different one of Harry’s stolen lunch boxes at lunch everyday. Louis can tell that Harry's losing her patience. It’s sort of funny, but mostly it makes Louis feel like an arse.

Harry corners Louis in the printer room, closing the door shut behind her when Louis enters.

Louis jumps in surprise, ready to tell the kids to go back to class, when she realizes it's Harry.

“Harry, what the fuck?”

“I knew it!” She says, loud. “She's been stealing my lunch boxes all along! I sort of thought it was you fucking with me because you thought it was funny but now I know it was her!”

“God.”

“She's been stealing them! I can't believe this!”

“You should confront her,” Louis says with more cynicism in her eyes. “See what her reasons are.”

“Oh,” Harry stops talking, looks down at Louis. “It was thinking maybe you could? I mean, you're friends with her and she's less likely to punch you in the face because of that so would you? For me? Please?”

Louis just looks at her with wide eyes because she's never heard her speak that fast.

“I don't know...I don't want to get punched either.”

“You don't have to. I mean, I just want a lunchboxes back, you know? I've spent like $60 dollars on them alone this year.”

Louis starts to feel bad. She looks into Harry's eyes and knows she can't do it anymore, can't keep up the façade.

“Alright. I'll do it.”

“Thank you so much,” Harry smiles, relieved, and reaches out to hug her. “I appreciate you a whole lot.”

“It's not that big of a deal,” Louis admits, hugging Harry back.

“It's sorta is.”

Louis feels like shit.

-

She tells Zayn that plan later that night at the bar. Zayn thinks it's hilarious and agrees. Louis is just glad to have it off her conscience.

When Zayn leaves, Louis gets up to go, too, but she sees Harry shuffle in and knows she'll want to talk, so she stays.

“So what did she say?”

“Nothing yet. I've not asked her.”

“What are you waiting for?” Harry says and from anyone else, it'd sound impatient, but from Harry it just sounds curious. “Monday?”

“Yep. Didn't want to ruin our date night.”

“You're dating?” Harry asks, sitting down next to Louis in the booth, not across from her. How strange.

“God, no. It was a joke,” Louis laughs.

She and Zayn dating—Ha! she can’t even imagine it!

“Oh,” Harry says pleasantly, ordering two glasses of red.

Now, Louis is not the biggest fan of red—mostly because she tends to be messy and it stains—but she’ll give it a go if Harry’s buying.

“So how’s math? Awful?” Louis has no idea why she’s asking or why she cares, but she just...does. Sue her.

“Math is never awful.”

“Don’t lie,” Louis grins, nudging her. “It’s always awful.”

“That’s not true. It’s sort of exhilarating, you know? Like you struggle working through a difficult equation and when you finally find a number that works, that fits perfectly between your Xs and Ys, it’s just...it’s a thrill.”

Louis starts to laugh a bit, covering her mouth with her fist. She’s never been excited by a math problem unless it had to do with multiplying numbers to see how much money she was going to get in her paycheck.

“No, I’m serious!” Harry laughs, too, in spite of herself. “I love math.”

“Is that why you chose it?”

“Yeah...why’d you chose psych? Fascinated with serial killers?”

Louis laughs, nodding. Harry’s not wrong. Serial killers fascinate the entirety of the human race. It’s a well known fact that people like to try and understand killers. But that’s not why Louis chose it.

“I got a degree from some shitty uni in, like, Smalltown, USA, after my mum dragged my arse all the way across the ocean in tenth grade. It was super small town, if you know what I mean, and the ‘socially acceptable’ majors for women were, like, dance and creative arts and fashion design. It’s not like I didn’t love dancing or art or clothes, because I did. I chose psychology because it interested me more than the others—though I minored in theatre—and because it broke every stereotype everyone tried to push onto me. I just...I don’t like to be what people expect.”

Harry looks at her for a long moment, deciding something, and then nods, the corner of her mouth quirking up on slightly as if she now understands something she didn’t before.

“Me, too.”

Louis smiles softly, nervously, and drinks the rest of her wine. For some reason, she feels like she exposed a part of herself she shouldn’t have. Even Liam doesn’t know where she’s from, why she chose psych, and why defends kids who are ‘different’ to the end.

“What’d they think about you being a lesbian?” Harry asks softly. “Must’ve been rough.”

“You’ve no idea.”

“I had this friend...in my freshman year...who was trans and he was from a small town in, like, fuckin’ Arkansas or something, and he told me everyone was awful.”

“Small towns are like that...especially in the lower half of The States.”

Harry nods and orders a shot. Louis wants one, too, so Harry orders her one as well. It’s as close to an unspoken agreement Louis has ever had.

“So, anyway, how’s the lunch box hunt going?”

“It's Zayn. I'm a 100 percent sure. She's been bringing them to lunch all week! Some even have my initials on them!”

“Oh, my God.”

“The only thing is...I don't get how she did it. Why. It doesn't make any sense.”

Louis tugs casually on her collar, sort of nervous. Is she on to her? Does she know?!

Louis has to stay calm. It's not that big of a deal if she does know, right? Harry's understanding. She'll understand.

“The psychology of the human mind will probably never be fully understood. I'll ask her why, if you want, when I confront her during homeroom on Monday,” God, Louis is a piece of shit.

“Thank you, again. I know you don't have to...and we're just brand new only-on-fridays friends, but I really really appreciate what you're doing for me.”

“You're welcome,” Louis says with a guilt-laden smile, raising her glass to nod at Harry. “It's no problem.”

-

It's probably not a good idea to get drunk and go out for McDonald’s with Harry and their Uber driver. It's probably not a good idea to tell Harry ridiculous stories about her old friends. The entire thing is probably a bad idea.

She does it all anyway.

Their Uber driver is a pretty chill dude. He speaks with a German accent and adores chicken nuggets. Harry insists on paying for him which, well, warms Louis’ heart. He tells them about how he's been sober for three years and how he's finally got visitation with his kids after sixteen whole months.

Louis hugs him because her mouth is full of chips and sweet and sour sauce. She's happy for him, is all.

Harry grins so wide it looks like it hurts, squeals, and hugs him, too. Everyone turns to stare, but Louis isn't concerned with anything but letting Elias know how happy she is for him.

“Thanks, _meine freunde.”_

Louis swallows her food and pats his shoulder. She doesn't speak much German, but she knows a little.

“ _Bitte_.”

He grins widely, pats her hand, and tells her she's wonderful.

“ _Danke_.”

Harry watches them with wide eyes, “You know German?”

“A bit,” Louis admits. “I was in an exchange program in ninth grade.”

“Shit, that's hot.”

Louis just looks at Harry, eyes wide. She has no idea what to do or to what to say. She and Harry are barely friends. Are _enemies_ during the week.

“Um...Elias, wanna get these to go?”

“Yes,” he says, looking at them suspiciously, grin curling his lip. “Let us go.”

-

Louis tells Elias to drop them off at her house, so he does. She takes his personal Uber card—“I made them myself. Here. Take one and call me when you need another ride, okay?”—and wishes him a good night.

He drives off once she's safely in her house, Harry at her side.

“You know where the guest room is?”

“Yeah, I got it,” Harry smiles.

“Good night.”

“Good night.”

Louis kicks off her shoes in the middle of the floor as Harry walks closer, eyes drooping as she leans in to kiss Louis on the cheek.

Louis drops her phone to the floor as Harry mumbles another, “Night,” and heads off.

Louis doesn't know what's going on.

-

She doesn't sleep much.

What kind of mortal enemies kiss each other on the cheek? She's flabbergasted.

At five thirty, she crawls out of bed to turn on the TV and watch something that will hopefully put her to sleep.

It doesn't work and she ends up being caught in the first half of a movie about an angry and untouchable girl and a boy with an Australian accent. It's good. Louis loves it and doesn't know how she's never seen it. Probably because she avoids any movie made in 1999.

She pauses it at six twenty to get some snacks—and some paracetamol to leave on Harry's bedside table—, but when she pushes open Harry's door, she, too, is awake.

“Brought you something for your eventual hangover,” Louis tosses the package to her, half empty.

“Para...Paracematol? What's that?”

“It's parace _tamol_...and it's equivocal to acetaminophen. I just prefer this packaging.”

“Oh, okay,” Harry pops two in her mouth, swallowing them dry.

Louis cringes at the thought and tosses her the bottle of water. She has no idea what kind of person can swallow pills dry.

“What are you doing up?”

“Can't sleep,” Harry answers.

“Me neither. Want to watch a movie?”

-

So they end up in Louis’ bed, backs against the pillows as they watch a despicable guy try to get a girl to fuck him by getting some strange guy told date her sister.

“I love this movie,” Harry says when it goes to commercial. “In fact, she was my first crush.”

“Oh, really? How old were you then?”

“Maybe fifteen when I saw it.”

“You were fifteen in 1999?!”

How fucking _old_ is Harry?!

Harry breaks into laughter. Louis doesn't get what's funny, so she pouts a bit.

“I was born in ‘94,” she says through a laugh. “God, do I look that old to you?”

“No.”

Harry giggles for a few seconds more while Louis pouts, shoveling a handful of Peanut M&Ms into her mouth.

“How old are you?” Harry asks once she's calmed down as the guy from _Looper_ fails to speak French on the TV. “I'm twenty seven—”

“That's so young,” Louis whines. “So. _Young.”_

The side of Harry's mouth quirks up again, in that I-Know-Something-You-Don't way while Louis acts dramatically.

“When I was your age, the year was 1906 and the first World War was in full effect—”

“Stop,” Harry whines, nudging her with her shoulder. “Be serious.”

“Fine,” Louis sighs. “Honestly, I'm just slightly over twenty nine.”

“We're, like, almost the same age!”

“Quite right.”

“That's cool. You've got this air of authority...and I sorta thought you were younger than I am because of how...you fake your maturity.”

“Fake my maturity?! I can't believe you'd accuse me of such a thing!”

“You do! I had a plan the other day and I fucking heard _Doctor Who_ playing through the wall with you making the intro noises!”

“I never!”

Harry's shocked demeanour vanishes and she grins cynically.

“So you wouldn't mind me asking your eighth period then, would you?”

Louis looks at her, cocks an eyebrow, and challenges her with a grin.

“Go ahead. They won’t say a word.”

If they do, monthly movie day is over. Louis’ll just wait the extra forty five minutes to watch.

“We’ll see about that,” Harry murmurs, eyes narrowed.

Louis grins and presses play on the remote, Patrick shouting to be heard over the music.

-

Louis wakes up with Harry in bed next to her. She's a little startled, but all together doesn't care because her head hurts. She leans over, opens her bedside table, and grabs two pills for her head.

She swallows them with some water and lays back down, checks the clock, and pulls the blanket back over her head.

It's only 11:30.

-

Harry wakes her up accidentally at 3.

She rolls over next to her and elbows her in the nose. Louis groans and jumps in surprise and pain, reaches out to push Harry away as she reaches for her nose. Harry yelps in surprise and rolls off the bed.

“Shit!” They both say at almost the exact moment.

Louis’ nose begins to bleed a bit, so she dazedly reaches for the tissues on the bedside table.

It's not bad, the bleed, but it hurts like a bitch. Harry, it seems, is extremely shocked. She just stares at Louis, eyes wide, from her position on the floor.

“Fuck, I'm so sorry!” She snaps out of it, leaping onto the bed to sit beside Louis. “Let me see.”

Louis moves her hand carefully, fingers releasing her nose. With a wince, Harry presses her fingers against Louis’ cheek, lifting her head.

Louis allows her to do so easily. After all, she caused it.

“I'm sorry. Oh my God. I'm _so_ sorry.”

Louis grumbles because her mouth tastes like blood and tells her it's not her fault. Tells her that it's because she hasn't shared a bed with someone in ages.

Harry still looks upset as she presses the tissues to Louis’ nose.

“If my nose isn't broken, want to get lunch?”

Harry takes half a second to respond, “Yeah. Just don't let me too close to your face.”

Louis hums appreciatively and pulls Harry's hand down. The bleeding has stopped.

“I don't think it's broken.”

“It might be,” Harry says with a frown. “It can't believe I broke your nose.”

“It's not broken!”

“But it might be!”

Louis crosses her arms and raises an eyebrow, challenging. Harry didn't mean to elbow her in the face. Harry probably didn't even break her nose. It's fine. It's actually okay.

“I know what you can do,” Louis says because she's sure of only one thing—Harry's cheesy as fuck.

She knows it's stupid and puerile, but it's the only thing she can think to do.

“Kiss it. Go ahead.”

Harry raises her eyebrow, lifts the side of her mouth, and nods. She, too, knows she'll feel better when she does.

“Okay.”

Harry holds Louis’ face, gently, softly, kindly, and leans it. Louis stares at her, at her eyes and her lips and at _her,_ and wants her to, secretly. She wants her to kiss her and sleep with her and watch great 90s romcoms. It's the scariest realization Louis has ever had. Especially considering she'd hated Harry a few weeks ago.

Now she sort of gets why everyone wants Harry to be their friend.

She just watches as Harry kisses her nose, smiles like she feels a little better, and settles back against the pillows.

“You're sure it's not broken?” She asks, concern still written in the lines of her face.

Louis has to clear her throat when she answers, a little freaked out, “I'm sure.”

Louis is fucked.

-

Louis goes to school on Monday with a black and blue nose. She tries her best to cover it with foundation and stuff, but, honestly, she's not very good at it.

She asks Zayn to do it for her instead.

“How'd this happen?” She asks, seated in Louis’ room.

The kids are still wandering about in the halls, so they have time. Louis isn't concerned.

“Got elbowed in the nose by someone sharing my bed on Saturday.”

Zayn doesn't even try to hide her laugh, giggling so hard she claps her hands.

Louis is vaguely unamused, but she laughs a bit, too. It's sort of funny.

“Was she cute?”

Louis doesn't feel bad when she says, “Beautiful.”

She does feel a bit like she's lost her head, though.

“Congrats,” Zayn murmurs, painting concealer all over her freckles. “I know it's been too long.”

“Shut up. You don't know shit.”

Zayn laughs again and dusts Louis’ face with powder to set it.

Maybe she has. Honestly, the thought doesn’t bother her a bit, really.

-

Louis decides she’s going to start being everyday friends with Harry. Her eighth period helps, of course, and they decide with a vote that Louis should befriend her and invite her out for Chinese. On a Wednesday.

It's the most stressful thing Louis has ever done and she doesn't even know _why_.

“Harry,” Louis says when she sees her door open after second period, “can I talk to you for a sec?”

“Yeah, just let me give them their assignment,” Harry smiles. “Page 286 numbers 1 to 14 are to be finished by the end of class tomorrow.”

Louis waits outside the door and watches the authority in Harry's face, in how she holds herself and how she speaks.

It's pretty amazing, actually.

“What's up?” Harry asks, shutting the door behind her.

“I...um...Want to come over for Chinese later?”

Louis figures she should just rip off the band-aid. Fuck her pride and fuck her fear.

Harry looks surprised, but pleasantly so, “It's Wednesday?”

“I know. I want to be all the time friends.”

Harry's look of surprise is heart warming, “Really?!”

Louis grins back at her, heart racing when Harry leans in for a hug. God. Louis is a teenager again.

“I'm so excited!”

“Me, too!”

-

It sort of becomes a Thing.

They do Chinese on Wednesdays, J’s on Fridays, and lunch most days. They have Saturday breakfast always at one of their apartments, eggs or bacon or omelets with spinach and tomatoes. It’s the best routine Louis has ever had and it’s not anything special.

It’s almost nothing, even. Louis is glad to have her almost nothing but still something, yet wishes for more, pines for it.

It’s nearly Easter when she gets it.

Louis plans on going home to see her mum and her sisters and brother, but the soon-ending winter has other ideas.

A blizzard blows through one day before Louis’ flight and coats everything with a thick layer of fluffy snow. Her flight’s delayed and her car’s hidden and New York is all but a fucking wreck.

Her fridge is seriously lacking anything good, so she texts Harry inquiring about the level of biscuits in her cabinet.

Harry’s almost immediate response is _‘what kind?? your kind or the american kind bc i have both’_ , which makes Louis scoff. She replies with the appropriate response and a smiling emoji. She sends another in quick succession, _‘i’m omw’_.

Louis tucks her jeans into her boots, pulls on gloves, a hat, and a scarf, and tops herself off with her warmest jumper before waddling outside to try to find her car.

-

¾ of the way through digging her car out of, like, 16 inches of snow, Harry rings her. She has to pull off her glove with her teeth just to press the damn answer button and it’s a lot of hassle for nothing.

“Hey, don’t come! It's too dangerous!”

“I’m already almost there,” Louis lies, clearing off the windshield. “Roads aren’t that bad, actually.”

“Are you sure?”

“Hundred percent. Now, about those biscuits—”

-

When Louis arrives, she’s cold and frustrated.

A police officer had stopped her just to yell at her and say that it’s “too dangerous” for such a “small woman” to be out on her own. Of course, Louis hadn’t heeded his advice to return home or she wouldn’t have shown up at Harry’s.

“Harry, open the bloody door! It’s ice fucking cold out ‘ere!”

The door opens quickly after that, heat seeping out to warm her cheeks. Harry’s behind it, wearing a short nightgown and a tall pair of fuzzy socks. Her hair’s down, surrounding her face, and she looks beautiful.

Louis doesn’t know how it happened, but she’s pretty sure her feelings are too strong to be denied. Everyone around her sees it—and by that she means Zayn and Perrie and Jade and the other tasteless potheads—and she’s honestly surprised Harry hasn’t.

Louis is just lucky she’s a little oblivious.

“Louis!” Harry grabs her wrist, tugging her inside. “You’re letting the cold in!”

“Actually,” Louis grins, kicking off her boots, “I”m letting the heat out because cold is just an absence of heat, is it not?”

“Shut up and get undressed.”

“Okay, okay. Geez.”

Louis strips off her outerwear, leaving herself in leggings and a t-shirt for some indie rock band she stole from Zayn. She’s got on socks with guitar print, too, but they’re probably the last thing Harry sees when she’s looking Louis up and down.

“So, there’s something I want to talk to you about,” Harry says softly, blinking gently.

She’s wearing eyeshadow—rosy pink—with pale pink lips. God, she’s beautiful.

“Hold on. Talk later, biscuits first.”

Louis walks past her and her long, tan legs toward the kitchen where she rummages through the cabinets until she finds them—the Oreos.

“Yes!” Louis says, stepping off the chair.

She’s too short to reach the biscuit cabinet, so the chair’s a necessity.

“Milk?” Harry asks, already in the fridge.

“You know me so well.”

Louis sits down at the counter, Oreos in hand, as Harry pours the milk. While Louis opens the pack, Harry begins to speak.

“You and I...We’re friends and we like each other in a friend way...which is nice. It’s fine. Sometimes it’s even great. Like every Saturday morning when I wake to find you next to me or burning bacon in my kitchen while you wear my bathrobe. I want to walk to your room at work and smile at you while the bad kids pretend gag and the good kids make cooing noises. I want to...to love you and your egotistical habits and your cute nose and ugly socks. I want to get the chance to have petty fights over what kind of dressing is best on salad and...and I think you might feel the same, but I have to be sure. So I'm asking.”

Louis looks up at her, Oreo shoved whole in her mouth, and blinks. She can’t believe Harry was the one to say it.

She’d figured it would be herself. The speech would’ve been half as long and half as cheesy.

Louis takes a drink of her milk and smiles, slow.

“Really?” Louis asks with a scoff. “You couldn’t have waited, like, two weeks?! I was planning something!”

“Liar,” Harry grins. “You can’t even keep track of your lesson plans, dummy.”

“I can so!”

Harry stands and walks to Louis’ side to grab a cookie, laughing.

“Can not.”

“Arsehole,” Louis murmurs with pursed lips.

Harry grins, nudges her shoulder, and asks, “So?”

“So what?”

“What do you think?”

“About your speaking skills?” Louis hums questioningly. “Out of ten, an eight.”

“Come on. Stop joking.”

“Alright, alright,” Louis laughs. “Kiss me.”

“What?”

“Kiss me, H.”

Harry purses her lips and kisses her. Louis’ brain short circuits.

Harry’s hands cup her jaw, her face, as her lips press softly to Louis’, warm and soft, the sweet taste of lipstick lingering on Louis’ tongue when she opens her mouth.

“You don’t know how long I’ve waited to do this,” Harry murmurs as her hand slides down and around her shoulder, stopping just short of her elbow. “Since I met you, practically.”

“Same,” Louis says, pulling away to rest her head against Harry’s. “Actually, no.”

“Shut up,” Harry says with a fake frown, “and kiss me.”

-

Louis waits a week and a half before she confronts Liam and Niall.

Harry tells her of their schedule—Thursday mornings they get tea at Starbucks—so she waits there until they show up.

They look the same. Louis doesn’t know why she’s so shocked.

“Hey,” she says as they stand in line. “I...need to...apologize.”

“Oh, really?” Liam says with a scoff. “After all this time?”

“Alright, Liam, fuck off,” Louis rolls her eyes, laughing just a bit. “I was wrong, you were right, I’m dating Harry, and Niall’s hair is noticeably browner.”

“You’re what?” Liam frowns.

“I’m letting it grow in,” Niall smiles. “Thank you for noticing.”

“It looks lovely.”

“So does the hickey on your neck.”

“Louis! You’re fucking Harry? I thought you were mortal enemies!”

“Where do you get your info? _Fox News_?” Louis scoffs, smiling. “We’ve been friends since, like, last year. Now we kiss. Get over it.”

“I knew it,” Niall adds and Louis grins.

Niall always understands her. Always.

“So does this mean you’ll actually start eating lunch with us again? Because I miss your ongoing commentary on Liam’s diet foods.”

“Oh, yeah. Zayn’ll come, too. I think she and Liam would get along beautifully.”

“I hate her,” Liam butts in, smile curling the edge of her lips. 

This is how they make up; it's weird, but that's just how they do things. 

“I hated Harry. Things change,” Louis shrugs. “Come on. If you forgive me, I’ll buy you food.”

Liam looks at her for a moment, eyes narrowed. Louis raises an unimpressed eyebrow.

Liam’s purposely being a dick. She always does.

“Fine,” she says, “but only because I want a muffin.”

-

Louis heads to Harry's classroom once Easter break is over with her eighth period students following her. Each of them carries an ugly flowery lunchbox. 

She knocks on the door, solemn like a soldier going to battle, and waits. Harry opens in half a minute. 

"Lou," she says and then corrects herself. "Miss. Tomlinson." 

"I have something to tell you. It was not Zayn who stole your lunchboxes. It was I. I felt...possesive and jealous and I was angry at you for taking my friends so I wanted to take something from you...so I stole your flowery artistic lunchboxes."

Louis feels much better with it off of her chest. Honestly, it weighed her down the entire Easter break. The truth does set people free. 

"You what?"

"I'd sneak into the break room and take them. Even took your carrots one time. I'm so sorry and I hope this didn't ruin our thing forever because I really like hanging out with you and talking to you and I promise not to steal anything from you again if just forgive me." 

Harry sighs, looks at all of the kids, and nods, "You're forgiven. Thank you for giving them back...but there's another thing you've stolen from me." 

Louis knows what she's going to say. Knows how cheesy it's going to be. She grins. 

"And what is that?" 

"My heart." 

Half of the kids make gagging noises. The other half coos.

Louis is living the dream.

**Author's Note:**

> I went a little out of control and ended up cutting some stuff out (i'm so sorry). I really tried to fit it all in, but it just didn't work out. 
> 
> (also my com teacher has monthly movie day it's not made up ok)
> 
> The original prompt is: "H and L are teachers at either a high school or university and their classrooms are next to/across from each other, the sound proofing isn't all that good so sometimes they can hear each other, during a lecture one of them says something and the other just knows they are wrong so stops their lecture to tell them and their class so/why. A little later the other class gets very loud then all of a sudden there is yelling through the wall for them to 'shut your class the hell up would you!?'"


End file.
